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smiled; then, as I stooped to taste The sweetest cup, freak dashed it from my lip. This very night--just think, this very night-- I planned to come and beg of you the alms I dared not ask for in my poverty. I thought me poor then. How stript am I now! There's not a ragged mendicant one meets Along the Nevski Prospekt but has leave To tell his love, and I have not that right! Pauline Pavlovna, why do you stand there Stark as a statue, with no word to say? SHE. Because this thing has frozen up my heart. I think that there is something killed in me, A dream that would have mocked all other bliss. What shall I say? What would you have me say? HE. If it be possible, the word of words! SHE, VERY SLOWLY. Well, then--I love you. I may tell you so This once, . . . and then forever hold my peace. We cannot stay here longer unobserved. No--do not touch me! but stand further off, And seem to laugh, as if we jested--eyes, Eyes everywhere! Now turn your face away . . . I love you. HE. With such music in my ears I would death found me. It were sweet to die Listening! You love me--prove it. SHE. Prove it--how? I prove it saying it. How else? HE. Pauline, I have three things to choose from; you shall choose: This marriage, or Siberia, or France. The first means hell; the second, purgatory; The third--with you--were nothing less than heaven! SHE, STARTING. How dared you even dream it! HE. I was mad. This business has touched me in the brain. Have patience! the calamity's so new. (Pauses.) There is a fourth way; but that gate is shut To brave men who hold life a thing of God. SHE. Yourself spoke there; the rest was not of you. HE. Oh, lift me to your level! So I'm safe. What's to be done? SHE. There must be some path out. Perhaps the Emperor-- HE. Not a ray of hope! His mind is set on this with that insistence Which seems to seize on all match-making folk. The fancy bites them, and they straight go mad. SHE. Your father's friend, the Metropolitan-- A word from him . . . HE. Alas, he too is bitten! Gray-haired, gr
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